``Everything,'' replied she--and said no more.



II


The dance was even more tiresome than Jane had anticipated.
There had been little pleasure in outshining the easily outshone
belles of Remsen City. She had felt humiliated by having to
divide the honors with a brilliantly beautiful and scandalously
audacious Chicago girl, a Yvonne Hereford--whose style, in looks,
in dress and in wit, was more comfortable to the standard of the
best young men of Remsen City--a standard which Miss Hastings,
cultivated by foreign travel and social adventure, regarded as
distinctly poor, not to say low. Miss Hereford's audacities were
especially offensive to Jane. Jane was audacious herself, but
she flattered herself that she had a delicate sense of that
baffling distinction between the audacity that is the hall mark
of the lady and the audacity that proclaims the not-lady. For
example, in such apparently trifling matters as the way of
smoking a cigarette, the way of crossing the legs or putting the
elbows on the table or using slang, Jane found a difference,
abysmal though narrow, between herself and Yvonne Hereford.
``But then, her very name gives her away,'' reflected Jane.
``There'd surely be a frightfully cheap streak in a mother who in
this country would name her daughter Yvonne--or in a girl who
would name herself that.''

However, Jane Hastings was not deeply annoyed either by the